


Your Ass Is Grass

by Hotel_Denouement



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Field Trip, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, High School, Professor Membrane thinks Zim and Dib are dating, ZADF, ZADR-friendly, ZaGf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-11-06 07:05:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11031108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotel_Denouement/pseuds/Hotel_Denouement
Summary: Very few circumstances will force Zim and Dib to be allies, and they suppose their current situation calls for that: Zim is on a girls' soccer team with Gaz, Dib is a chaperone on a mysterious trip to the mountains, the forces of Hell want to use Gaz as a weapon, and there's not enough room for two invasions on one planet.





	1. Chapter 1

When Dib was in seventh grade, Zim had the hilarious misfortune of being drafted onto the girls' soccer team after his Irken uniform had led the coach to believe he was a girl. If not for the fact that Gaz had also been placed on the soccer team (with about as much enthusiasm as Zim), this wouldn't have been an issue for Dib and would have only served as a source for a good laugh.

And for a while that's exactly what it was. For five years Zim was stuck on the team, forced to wear a violet uniform with the team name "URCHINS" splashed across his back and attend every game despite never needing to actually play. The Urchins had a winning streak for those five years ever since Gaz joined the team; with every game she left the opposing team little more than a crater in the green inside of ten minutes. Gaz was never interested in running around kicking a ball for two hours. Professor Membrane had encouraged her to join the team as a proactive outlet for her aggression, and Dib supposed it _kind_ of worked.

For five years, Dib's problems with Zim didn't have anything to do with Zim being an Urchin. That is, until the Tournament.

("The Tournament? What kind of tournament?"

"I don't know, just the Tournament. It's in the mountains.")

Which is how Dib found himself in the office at school, clutching Gaz's permission slip in his hands and arguing with the receptionist at the front desk.

"I'm eighteen!" he insisted for the third time. "I'm a legal adult! If it's about missing school, I've had perfect marks since kindergarten! I can make up classwork!"

The receptionist was tired. "You're eighteen."

"Yes."

"And your want to go on this soccer trip as a chaperone to your little sister…"

"Yes."

"…who's seventeen."

Dib faltered slightly. It sounded dumb when she put it like that. He shook himself of embarrassment and scowled deeply, leaning on the desk.

"Look, Zim has to go on this trip too," he explained earnestly. "The Urchins have never had to go on an overnight trip for a game, and this trip is going to last three days. I'm not letting my sister go on a mysterious trip to the mountains for three days with that alien when I'm not around to keep him from doing… _stuff!_ "

"Stuff," repeated the receptionist.

"Stuff," said Dib grimly. "It's the middle of winter, it's not even our school's soccer season. It's already fishy."

"Fishy," repeated the receptionist.

"Super fishy," said Dib gravely.

The receptionist sighed. "Just inform your teachers of your absence and it'll be up to them whether or not you'll be allowed to make up missed classwork."

There came a sharp tapping on the glass window to the office from the hallway. Gaz was waiting for Dib. Dib left the office and smiled proudly at her, taking his place beside her and walking out the front doors, heading for the student parking lot.

"Well, I did it!" he said. "I got them to let me be your chaperone!"

"Ugh," Gaz groaned, disgusted. "I don't _want_ you to be my chaperone."

"Come on, Gaz, you know I don't trust Zim for a second, even when I'm already around to keep an eye on him!"

Gaz sneered at him. "Then why don't you go as _his_ chaperone?"

"Very funny," Dib frowned. "I know Zim has something to do with this weird Tournament the team is going to play. It's not even soccer season. And what's up with it being in the mountains? Mt. Sappho is a volcano, you know!"

They reached Dib's car and Gaz glared at him ferociously over the roof of it. "Nobody else on the team is bringing a chaperone, Dib, so I'm expecting you not to bug me or embarrass me. That means shutting up and keeping your weirdness with Zim quiet and minimal, or else I'll plunge you into a hell so abominable and agonizing you'll be begging to take Judas's place in the mouth of Dis."

They got into the car. Gaz pulled out her Game Slave 4 and immersed herself in it as Dib pulled haphazardly out of the parking lot and sped down the road for home. They went inside and filed up the stairs to their rooms in silence. The trip was tomorrow, and they were expected to be in the school parking lot at six in the morning to board the charter bus, so Dib hauled out his suitcase from the closet. It was dusty and smelled kind of bad, and when he jostled it a roach skittered out and a cluster of spiders toppled onto the floor and scattered. He wasn't sure why he had this thing. It was older than he was, and his family never went on trips, much less ones long enough to call for a suitcase.

Still, he shook the thing out to rid it of anymore pests before putting it on his bed and then turning to his computer to check the cameras he'd set up around Zim's house, as usual. The alien wasn't home yet; he still walked to and from school, while Dib had gotten a car two years ago and drove like a maniac. There were no signs of GIR getting up to anything either, so Dib turned away from his computer to start packing his suitcase. Let's see…laptop, camera…books, cyanide pills (just a precaution), pictures of Zim...extra underwear, three days worth of clothes, toiletries…

By the time he finished packing, Dib had to sit on his suitcase in order to force it shut. He'd worked up a sweat from the effort, and when he glanced at his computer screen, he saw Zim walking up the pathway to his evil house. Dib put on his headphones and strained to hear what Zim was saying as he entered his house. He needed to fix his laser microphone, it was hard to pick things up from this distance…

"…a monumental waste of my precious time, GIR!" Zim was saying. "Five years— _five!_ —of my life, wasted on this stupid, stinking sport, and now I'm required to go on some _'field trip'_ for three days?! To play in a tournament that the Gaz child will have wrapped up in the blink of an eye?! It's _infuriating_ , I _hate_ this sport!"

Huh, so maybe Zim wasn't behind the mysterious Tournament. Still, Dib fully intended to tag along with Gaz. Just because Zim wasn't up to something having to do with the trip, that didn't mean he wasn't up to anything at all. Dib sat back in his chair and settled in as usual to obsessively watch Zim and do his homework. He didn't have school tomorrow, but he didn't want to put it off until the last minute; he didn't let his grades slip when Zim first arrived to Earth and he wasn't going to let them slip now. He went downstairs a few hours later to get something for dinner and found Gaz at the kitchen table with their father.

"Have you packed yet?" he asked his sister, who peered at him with one eye and slurped a string of spaghetti.

"Yeah."

"Gaz was telling me that you've secured yourself a position as her chaperone on her trip," Professor Membrane said. "It's good to know you're so concerned about her well-being, son!"

"Yeah. Zim's going, and I want to make sure he doesn't do anything horrible. The Tournament's next to a volcano, you know."

"Of course it is."

"I was also telling him that the game is going to be on TV," Gaz said warningly to Dib, "so you better remember what I said about bugging and/or embarrassing me."

"Be nice, honey," Membrane chided mildly. "And of course I will tune in on your game! I know I haven't been able to make it to all of the games you've won, but I will definitely be able to see this one at the labs! I trust that you'll do your best not to embarrass your sister, son."

"I won't, sheesh!" With an indignant huff, Dib turned away and set about making himself a sandwich. He left the kitchen to plant himself in front of the television just in time for the _Mysterious Mysteries_ theme.

Despite going two consecutive sleepless nights already and telling himself he'd turn in for the night at ten o' clock, Dib found himself reporting to Agent Darkbooty three times and absorbing himself in a recent report of a Spring-heeled Jack from Agent Tunaghost, which led to another session of recreational Bigfoot research, which, in turn, reminded him to read up on the Yeti some more, considering where the Tournament was to be held. He was dozing at his desk with his chin propped up in one hand at 5:30 when Gaz came in, startling him.

"Take a shower," she said tersely, "we gotta be at the school in a half hour."

Cursing under his breath for forgetting to go to sleep _again_ , Dib shuffled into the bathroom and showered quickly, then padded downstairs to get breakfast. He didn't have the energy to be annoyed with Gaz when he saw she'd eaten the last of the cereal, so he ate a slice of toast at the breakfast table in silence. When 5:45 ticked around, they dragged their suitcases downstairs and loaded them into the car. At 5:48, Dib screeched to a halt in the school parking lot.

The parking lot was dimly lit by the sickly yellow lights inside the charter bus, but the Urchins were not yet allowed to board. The girls of the soccer team stood shivering in the December chill in two lines before the two soccer coaches heading the trip, Coaches 1 and 2.

" _Gaz!_ " Coach 2 roared across the parking lot upon sighting them. "Fall in! You too, Zim!"

Gaz got in line, and Dib looked around for Zim. Zim was just arriving, looking far from happy. When he spotted Dib, he bared his teeth.

"Dib!" he snarled. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Chaperoning," Dib said easily.

" _Chaperoning?_ " He looked horrified. "You mean to say you're coming on the trip too?!"

"Yup!" said Dib smugly. "You didn't think you'd get three whole days unsupervised alien treachery, did you?"

"I thought at the very least I'd get three whole days of no giant-headed, stupid-haired, ugly-faced _Dib_ bothering me at every turn," Zim said unhappily. "How could this wretched trip have gotten worse before it's even _begun!?_ "

"Zim!" Coach 2 hollered. "I said fall in! Buddies are being assigned!"

Zim glared balefully at Dib before getting into the second line next to Gaz. Dib joined her as she reached the front of the line.

"Do you have a chaperone with you?" Coach 1 asked, looking at his clipboard.

"Unfortunately."

"Hmm." 1's eyes lazily went up and down Dib's person before returning to his clipboard. "Your buddy will be Zim for the next three days. You and your chaperone will travel in a group of three with her for the duration of the trip for safety."

"Whatever." Gaz walked away. Dib didn't bother correcting the coach on Zim's gender; if he hadn't figured it out in five years, it's likely he never would.

Dib went to stand next to the bus, warming himself by the exhaust pipe until it was time to board. He drew himself up to his full height as Zim approached him thunderously; they had grown, both of them, since Zim's arrival on Earth, with Dib standing at a respectable height of 6'1" while Zim had barely reached 5'3". Something about Irken gravity being heavier or something.

"Listen carefully, _Dib_ ," Zim said, poking Dib in the chest. "I don't understand the point of this 'buddy system' the soccer humans have enacted, but I do understand that I need to make something _very clear._ " He poked him again and Dib swatted at him. "You are your _sister's_ chaperone, not mine! I've been an adult since before your father was even a _cell_. Gaz is your only charge! You will have absolutely no authority over _ZIM!_ "

Dib blinked slowly at the little alien's glowering face, then reached up casually and flicked him where his nose would have been if he had one. Zim screeched.

"All aboard!" the bus driver called from the bus, and blasted the horn like a train conductor.

Dib, Gaz, and Zim were the first to board. Dib followed Gaz to the back of the bus, where she took the window seat, and he sat beside her. Zim flopped into the seat next to Dib and immediately pulled up a computer screen from his watch.

"What are you doing?" Dib asked suspiciously. Zim scoffed.

"None of your business, stink boy," he said snidely, but proceeded to explain, "I sent out a few mods to the location where the Tournament is to be held to set up a second underground base in the mountains. A good invader always has more than one base."

"You're setting up a second base just for a three day trip?" Talk about a workaholic. Years ago, Dib would have been appalled at the thought—now, it was just kind of annoying. Most of Zim's antics these days were just annoying, really.

"If you thought I'd treat this pointless soccer trip as a vacation from my work, you thought wrong."

Dib crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, unbothered. "Good luck with your evil, Zim. You won't get away with a single thing."

The bus rumbled underneath them, and at last, it began to move. They pulled out of the parking lot and set off down the road. The Tournament at Mt. Sappho awaited them.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

About twenty miles southeast of Mt. Sappho was the cleverly named town of Sapphoville, which hosted the Sapphoville Arena, a library, an arcade, a few hotels and sports bars, and not much else. Sapphoville was hemmed in on all sides by reasonably-sized massifs, and the road winding into the town between mountains grew bumpier as it stretched further from the highway. Dib had nodded off into a light nap about three hours into the bus drive, and was jolted rudely awake by a sharp bump as the bus bounced along the pothole-riddled road. It was around noon and the sky was a pearly, wintry gray that made Dib squint and want to go back to sleep. However, he noticed with some embarrassment that he had fallen asleep on Zim's shoulder (who, to his credit, either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared), so he sat up straight and rubbed his eyes. His nap had done the opposite of rejuvenating him.

"We're here?" he asked Gaz, peering out the bus window just as it turned into the parking lot of a hotel.

" _FINALLY!_ " Zim cried, leaping to his feet and clutching the back of the seat in front of him.

"Zim, sit down!" Coach 2 barked from the front of the bus. "Nobody exits the bus until rooms are assigned!"

Zim planted his butt back in his seat and crossed his arms, sulking. Dib watched as he pulled up his computer screen again; it was a view from his spaceship passing over a city Dib couldn't recognize from the angle. It was only when he heard the rumble of an engine overhead and looked out the window to see the spaceship slowly coming to dock on the roof of the hotel that Dib realized what he was doing.

"You built a second base _and_ brought your spaceship?" Gaz said, unimpressed.

"Of course I did! Why wouldn't I?"

"You didn't even disguise it," Dib pointed out. "Are you even _trying_ anymore?"

Zim looked affronted. " _BE QUIET!_ "

They sat there on the bus for nearly an hour—far longer than Dib felt was remotely necessary—as the coaches divvied up the girls with their buddies, assigning them their hotel rooms. Dib came close to dozing off again a few times, but was kept awake by an itching thought regarding this room assignment thing he couldn't quite find the energy to focus on…

"Gaz and Zim, your room number is 122," came Coach 1's voice. Ah, that was the problem! Dib jerked to full alertness, alarmed.

"Hey, wait! No!" he said sharply.

"What?"

"Isn't there some sort of rule against that?!" Dib protested angrily. "Boys and girls aren't allowed to room together!"

Coach 1 stared at him for a long moment, before saying carefully, "This is a girls' soccer team, young man."

"Yes! It is! And you put a guy on it _five years ago!_ "

" _Dib_ ," Gaz growled, while Coach 1 looked at Zim. Zim sat with his hands folded politely in his lap, his legs swinging, staring innocently up at him.

"Room 122," Coach 1 said after a confused pause, apparently choosing not to worry too much about the whole thing. He handed the three of them their room keys. "You kids can work out the sleeping arrangements yourselves."

Dib seethed for a moment, overwhelmed with anger that was more instinctive than logical, then snatched his key from 1 with a grumble of "oh, whatever." He stuffed his key card into his wallet and pocketed it, then held a warning finger in Zim's face.

"I don't know what you're so upset about," Zim said, narrowing his eyes at him. "I have no intentions of being in this hotel room with you or little Gaz much at all."

"Great," Dib said coldly. "Let's keep it that way."

Gaz's face was pink and livid as she followed Dib following Zim down the aisle of the bus. " _What_ , exactly, did you think was going to _happen?_ "

Dib sensed a dangerously loaded question. "Nothing! I just want to look out for you is all."

"I will murder you," she threatened. Dib made a note to watch his back for the next few hours while Gaz had this on her mind.

They got off the bus. Zim marched into the hotel promptly while Dib and Gaz got in line with her teammates to retrieve their suitcases. Dib scanned the room numbers for room 122 on the ground floor, although they could have easily followed the racket down the hall that Zim was making.

"Zim!" Dib snapped over the mechanical noise, shutting the door behind him and Gaz. "What are you doing _now?_ "

Across the room, Zim's head poked out of the bathroom.

"Setting up a transit system to my second base in the toilet!" he explained proudly. "Wanna see?"

Gaz crossed the room, and Zim stood aside to let her into the bathroom, fists planted happily on his hips. There was a shrill squeal of metal being torn apart, and Zim's partially-constructed transit system flew out of the bathroom and made a ding in the wall.

"Hey!" Zim yelped.

"Put your stupid alien elevator somewhere else," Gaz instructed. "We have to actually _use_ that toilet."

"I don't!" Zim protested.

"Well, _I'm_ a human who _pees_ ," Gaz snarled, and slammed the bathroom door in his face. Zim looked at Dib as if expecting him to reason with Gaz, but Dib simply tossed his suitcase on one of the two queen-sized beds that Gaz hadn't already claimed.

"This is my bed," Dib said firmly. He pointed at the other one. "That's Gaz's bed. You don't get a bed. Neither of us is going to sleep with you."

"Stupid, smelly Dib," Zim cackled unpleasantly. "Unlike you revolting, fragile little humans, Irkens don't need sleep!" He picked up the beginnings of the transit system and went to the empty wastebasket next to the television cabinet. He nudged it aside and rammed the machinery into the carpeted floor. With a whirring noise, it started to drill down. Zim kicked the bottom of the wastebasket out and positioned it over where he had drilled. He looked very happy with his work.

"Do you just not care that I can see everything you're doing?" Dib asked. He glanced at his suitcase and wished he hadn't packed his camera at the bottom.

"Eh?" Zim barely spared him a glance, distracted as he looked around their room, waiting for his transit system to finish installing itself. Dib didn't know how far away the new base was. "Oh, yes, of course. Uh, cover your eyes."

Dib sprawled face down on the bed. Zim was stupid. He sat up when he heard Gaz come out of the bathroom and turn on the TV.

"Oh, Gaz, look for the channel that _Mys_ —"

"No." She turned the channel to _When Animals Attack!_ The three of them stared at the screen as a polar bear gnawed on a tourist's leg, Gaz with contentment, Zim with mild curiosity, and Dib with some distaste. After a moment, Gaz said, "Your elevator thing's done."

"Hm?" Zim looked down at the wastebasket. "Oh, look at that!" He stepped inside it, his boots crinkling in the plastic lining. "Farewell, you _fools!_ We'll meet again—when's the thingy tomorrow?"

"Ten."

"Farewell, you _fools!_ " Zim roared again. "We'll meet again tomorrow at _ten o' clock!_ " He laughed madly as he disappeared into the floor, whisked away to his stupid new base.

Dib heaved a sigh and turned his attention back to the TV, only for Gaz to say, "Don't you have a Yeti or something to chase? It's like…definite Yeti weather up on the mountain."

"Yeah, okay." Dib frowned at the unspoken "go away," but it wasn't every day that Gaz bothered to spare his feelings, so he stood up to leave. There wasn't much for him to do in here anyway, now that everybody seemed to have settled in. He tapped his watch. "But call me if Zim comes back and starts doing anything suspicious."

Gaz grunted, and Dib left the room. He didn't really want to go outside, but the entire first floor of the hotel reeked of chlorine from the indoor swimming pool, so he buttoned up his coat for the first time in a long time and made his way out of the lobby.

It was snowing a little outside and the wintry breeze stung Dib's cheeks. He looked up at Mt. Sappho towering over Sapphoville; the volcano was dormant, he'd read, and had been for several centuries, but something seemed…suspicious about it. Almost like it was buzzing, like a sputtering engine deep within the earth's crust that Dib could only just barely detect—

" _WHEEEEEEEE!_ " Never mind. It _was_ a sputtering engine, GIR's poorly regulated jets, screaming through the air in the distance, weaving a dangerous spiral in the sky as he came closer. Dib ducked and threw his arms protectively over his head as GIR swooped low and collided hard with the brick wall of the hotel.

"Hi, GIR," Dib said glumly. The volcano was still suspicious, though.

 


	3. Chapter 3

On the field inside the Sapphoville Arena, the grass was jarringly green against the bleak winter around it. The time edged closer to ten AM, and a light snow had started to fall without sticking on the ground. All of the Urchins save for Gaz and Zim shivered; in the sparsely populated stands, Dib envied his sister’s thermal shirt under her uniform, and regretted not packing a scarf. Snowflakes stung his cheeks, and he sullenly turned his coat collar up against the wind. He didn't relish the thought of sitting through an entire game like this.

 _At least Gaz will have this wrapped up in no time_ , he considered hopefully. On the green Gaz stood with her Game Slave 4 in hand, freshly charged through the night. Zim had taken up his usual spot for games just a few feet from where Gaz stood, arms crossed and tapping his foot impatiently. To Dib’s right, GIR sat in his terrible dog disguise; he wore a massive foam finger on his head like a hat and had his face buried in a steaming, sloppy box of nachos. Every time Dib tried to put an empty seat of space between himself and the robot, GIR would simply move with him.

9:57 AM. Three more minutes. Dib was ready for this to be over with. On the edges of the field, camera crews were making their final preparations. The home team, the Sapphoville Violets (whose uniform colors were bright yellow, for some reason), shivered and looked just as uncertain as to why there was a tournament going on as Dib felt. Dib gazed around the stadium, which had a capacity to seat 10,000 people, but there were maybe fifteen people in the seats including himself. The other fourteen were Sapphoville residents, presumably friends or family of the home team players, all scattered on the opposite side of the arena. _What kind of tournament has a fourteen-person turnout?_

9:59 AM. The cameras were rolling as a coin was flipped to decide who would get the kickoff at center field. At Dib’s side, GIR opened his cheese-gummy mouth and squealed in quivering anticipation. At 10:00, the Urchins kicked off. The entire team, Zim included, craned their necks around to look at Gaz to see if she would take control and finish this immediately, but evidently she was at an important level of her game, because she scowled at her teammates’ attention and turned away, bending over her Game Slave. The Urchins shrugged and kicked the ball like normal athletes.

GIR stood shrieking in his seat, jumping up and down excitedly. Dib covered his ears, a headache forming above his right eye; the dull _normalcy_ of this was growing unbearable. Zim had nothing to do with the Tournament but Dib found himself wishing that he had, simply for something to do. His gaze drifted up and out of the open air arena towards the motionless gray peak of Mt. Sappho. What he’d give for an eruption at this point, just for a distraction—

Suddenly, the ground lurched violently beneath him. There was a sound like thunder across the stadium, and the earth shook again. Dib gripped the armrests tightly and leaned back hard while GIR and his nachos pitched forward onto the floor with a scream. The Urchins and Violets were stopped in place on the field, staring as a fissure in the ground began to split the field apart from the center.

 _I was kidding about the eruption!_ Dib thought wildly as another quake shook the stadium. When he saw it knock Gaz onto the grass, he leapt to his feet and rushed unsteadily down the stadium steps. The fissure at center field grew ever wider, and a gust of scalding wind burst forth, melting the snow as it fell into the arena. Another lurch of the floor sent Dib sprawling down the last few concrete steps just as he saw the crack in the field glow red.

“ _GIR!_ ” he heard Zim yell from the green, and Dib covered his head with his arms as GIR’s jets roared to life and rocketed over him. He clambered back to his feet and raced to the field in GIR’s smoky wake.

The other fourteen people in the stands had also come to the field to point and scream at the fiery crack breaking the stadium in half. Zim’s robotic spider-legs suspended him ten feet up, self-stabilizing on the churning ground, and Dib darted underneath them to reach Gaz, who picked herself up off the grass and pocketed her Game Slave with an irritated sigh. They stared at the crevice, which appeared to bubble and boil, as a hulking thing of magma crested over the jagged edges—but the shape of a clawed hand made Dib narrow his eyes suspiciously.

A second hand joined the first, and with a great, monstrous grunt, an enormous flaming torso shouldered its way out of the fissure, setting the soccer field alight where it touched. The creature lifted its great, misshapen head and swept its eyes over the meager, screaming crowd. Its gaze fell on Dib for a split second, then moved to Gaz; its eyes spat fire at the sight of her.

“ _You,_ ” it bellowed, lava dripping from its mouth. It pointed at her. “ _The Weapon_.” The rest of its body was a shapeless blur of red and orange as it shot in Gaz’s direction. Stray Urchins yelped and dove out of the way; Zim and GIR screamed and scuttled backwards only to get tangled in the goal net behind them.

Dib barely had time to cover his eyes and jump recklessly between Gaz and the monster, accepting his fate, before Gaz made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat and shoved him out of the way. Dib hit the ground and peeked through his fingers to watch as Gaz clenched her fists and stomped resolutely towards the thing speeding at her, and with a sound like a bomb detonating, Gaz’s cleat collided with the monster’s face.

The monster was instantly less formidable, in Dib’s opinion, when it was sent sprawling back, skidding towards the flaming crevice, where several smaller lava monstars were peeking sinisterly from its depths. They snickered at their assumed leader, who clutched the center of its face with a look of reproach.

“ _Ow!_ ” it roared, sitting up. “ _What’s your problem, child?!_ ”

“What's _your_ problem?” Gaz shot back.

“ _I asked you first!_ ”

“Okay, well, beat it. We’re in the middle of something stupid that I'm trying to get out of as soon as possible.” Gaz jabbed a thumb dispassionately to the camera crew on the sidelines, who waved meekly. “It's also on TV.”

“ _I KNOW IT’S ON TV, THAT WAS THE IDEA!_ ” the monster thundered, climbing to its…feet? The grass was thoroughly ablaze where it stood, and the smaller monsters in the crevice poked their heads through the curtain of fire. This was all too alarming and kind of stupid for Dib.

“Hang on, just stop for a second!” he yelled, moving forward. “What’s going on here? Who are you? What do you want with Gaz?”

“Who cares?” Gaz muttered, as the monster shouted, “ _I AM CLEM! Lord of the Embers, the Underworld’s Master Weapons Specialist, Leader of Hell’s Arms Race—_ ”

“You’re a demon and your name is...Clem?”

“ _Yeah, so?_ ” snapped Clem. When Dib merely blinked at him, he continued ominously, “ _We’ve come to reclaim the Weapon._ ”

“What weapon? Are you talking about Gaz?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Clem leered, stalking closer and winding his vast body in a fiery circle around Dib and Gaz, forcing them closer to him at the crevice. “ _The child...her power...she is the Weapon, and she belongs to us. Haven’t you wondered all these years what makes her so...WRETCHED?_ ”

“Uh—”

“ _SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO_ ,” Clem began, sounding very rehearsed, “ _your father— **her** father—the greatest corporeal mind...did something very, very stupid_.” He swung a massive red hand to point to the camera crews, presumably because he knew Professor Membrane was watching on television. Dib started to follow his finger, but was distracted into glaring at Zim when he cackled loudly, still caught in the soccer goal, “HA! Stupid corporeal HUMAN!”

“ _He came together with one of ours_ ,” Clem continued, ignoring Zim, “ _an experiment of science and... **blasphemy**_.” He smiled, bright magma drooling from his jagged teeth again. “ _And when the fetus was viable—_ ” He broke off, outraged, as a soccer ball struck him squarely between the eyes with a dull thunk and fell to the burning grass, deflating sadly.

“We already _know_ this garbage,” Gaz seethed now that she had gotten Clem to shut up. “Did you stage all this to tell me how my dad makes babies? None of that is news to me.”

Clem blinked slowly at her, then at Dib, and then turned to look back at his fellow demons in the crevice, who shrugged. He looked at Gaz again. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

A vein was throbbing in Gaz’s temple and her fists were clenched and shaking. Her patience had long since dipped below zero. Dib stepped in.

“Our dad told us how we were born _forever_ ago,” he said exasperatedly. “I was a botched human cloning experiment—shut _up_ , Zim—and Gaz is a human/demon hybrid. He never kept that a secret from us.”

“ _Give me a moment._ ” Clem swooped back to the crevice to mutter with his lackeys.

Zim disentangled GIR and himself from the net and retracted his spider legs into his PAK before ( _of course_ , Dib thought bitterly) anyone else noticed he’d even had them out. He shoved himself between Dib and Gaz, staring at them in turns suspiciously.

“Is that true?” he demanded. “Were you really not born like normal human children?”

“Mind your own business,” Dib said, just as Gaz said, “No.”

“Predictably, the Dib is a complete failure, but you…” Zim rubbed his chin thoughtfully, eyeing Gaz carefully. “A literal _demon child?_ ” Gaz’s lip curled, and Zim stepped sidelong so that Dib stood between them.

Distracted, Dib peered across the field at the group of demons huddled in the fissure. “Whatever they mean by calling you ‘the Weapon,’ I don’t like it, Gaz.”

“I do,” Zim said ominously, rubbing his hands together with evil glee. “Your pitiful human concept of Hell is no match for an invader, and _ZIM_ will make much better use of such a weapon— _oof!_ ”

Gaz shoved him to the ground hard, the force of it driving Zim’s face a few inches into the ruined field’s soil. Dib watched, interested, as she placed her cleat on the back of Zim’s head and pressed his face deeper into the ground as Zim thrashed furiously.

“I’m not _anybody’s_ weapon except for my own,” she threatened darkly. “Definitely not for either of _you_ losers.” Dib snickered, and Gaz removed her foot from Zim’s head to address Clem across the field. “So like I said, get lost.”

Clem crossed the length of the arena in a blink of an eye, incensed. “ _YOU WILL NOT OPPOSE YOUR MAKERS, CHILD! We **will** reclaim our Weapon, and we **will** utilize you as we see fit! All of this pathetic plane of existence will crumble to ash before us! All of humanity will bow before us!_ ”

Zim wrenched his head out of the dirt and sprang to his feet, outraged. “ _HEY!_ Get your own plane of existence to conquer! This one is mine! _ZIM_ will wipe out all life on Earth, not, ehhhh, whatever it is you are! Demons, or whatever!”

“If you want to reclaim your Weapon so bad, go ahead and take me, then,” Gaz said, marching directly into Clem’s scorching personal space. Dib started after her nervously, but paused when he saw Clem actually take a step away from her.

“ _The forces of Hell are—_ ” he began, only for Gaz to kick the deflated soccer ball into his face again.

“Are a bunch of time-wasting _losers_ ,” she said. “So _beat it_. Don't make me tell you again. You only _think_ you know what Hell is.”

Clem trembled, but whether it was from anger or intimidation was anybody’s guess. He looked back at his lackeys again, who were now barely peeking over the lip of the crevice.

“ _We will claim our Weapon_ ,” he finally growled, narrowing his glowing eyes at Gaz. “ _Just...not right now. But we will. Make no mistake, child_.”

“Yeah, I’m shaking,” Gaz sneered.

There was a hot, dry, sucking sensation that threatened to pull the air out of Dib’s lungs as Clem and the smaller demons were swept back into the crevice. The scalding wind didn't move Gaz, only buffeted her hair around her face; Dib dug his heels into the earth and leaned against the wind; Zim was pushed into Dib’s back with a yelp and he only barely managed to snag GIR by the ear on his costume to keep the screaming robot from being sucked into the fissure. The camera crews yelled as their equipment went tumbling into Hell, or whatever, and just like that, the ruined stadium was quiet. It steamed as the winter air settled back in place. Gossip abounded audibly but indistinct among the crowd.

The coaches of the Urchins and the Violets huddled together by the stands briefly, until Coach 1 lifted a megaphone to address the crowd: “Uh, so...due to the damage to the stadium, today’s Tournament will be rescheduled for, um, I guess three days or so? While they rebuild everything? Thanks. Remember, Urchins, stay with your buddy during this time!”

“What _is_ this?” Dib cried, flabbergasted, staring at the wreckage of the arena and the general lack of pandemonium. “Demons! From Hell! They just _showed up_ and tried to take my sister! And everybody's just acting like it was some sort of schoolyard fistfight!”

“It was about as scary as a schoolyard fistfight,” said Gaz, unimpressed and scratching her nose. Behind them, Zim was kicking and punching the air in a full-blown tantrum, GIR still hanging by the ear from his clenched fist.

“I am _SO - SICK!!!_ ” He gnashed his teeth and shook GIR over his head, enraged, “Of so many otherworldly _nuisances!!!_ ” Kick, kick, punch, punch. “Barging in and trying to take over the planet that the Tallest assigned to _me! ZIM!!!_ ”

“Maybe stick a flag in it, stupid,” Dib said scathingly.

“ _ **MAYBE I WILL!**_ ”

“Shut up! God!” Gaz snarled. Her watch was flashing. “Dad’s calling me.” She pulled up the video call, and Dib and Zim leaned in to peer at it as Professor Membrane’s face filled the screen.

“Are the forces of Hell bothering you, sweetie?” the Professor asked sympathetically.

“Yeah, but I’m getting them off my back,” Gaz said. “They're rescheduling the game for three days while they rebuild stuff.”

“Alrighty, I’ll watch you play then!” said the Professor brightly. “Have fun!”

The screen went dark. Zim stepped away, pulling up his own watch screen computer and muttering furiously to himself. Dib squinted at whatever he was doing but could only see great big spots of red on the screen.

“Ugh!” Zim slammed a fist down on his watch. “Stupid _Hell!_ I need to do more research! I'm done being stuck with these pitiful soccer slaves!” He glared ferociously at Dib and Gaz over his shoulder. “I've called for the Voot, but we have _MUCH TO DISCUSS, FAILURE DIB! DEMON GAZ!_ ”

“Stop yelling, I’m standing right here.” Gaz had already returned to her Game Slave.

The Voot cruiser, disguised as a pig and still somehow drawing no excess attention from the other people, arrived in no time. Zim and GIR boarded it, and Zim shot Dib an intense look. “Enjoy your smelly bus ride back to the hotel, _Dib_. Meet me at the Second Base.”

“If we’re going to the same place just take—”

The Voot rose smoothly into the air. “I can't hear you over the ship and your huge head, Dib!” And he was gone.

It began to snow in earnest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if this chapter sounds/reads a little different from the first two that is because there is literally a five-year gap between the last chapter and this one lmao


	4. Chapter 4

Zim was beginning to despise the color red. It was lucky that the Irken planetary color scheme was partial only to off-shoots of red. Deep below the foundations of the hotel, Zim resisted the urge to put his boot directly through his computer screen as it glitched yellow/orange and then flooded entirely red _again._

“Clear the numbers and zoom back out!” he shouted. “I can _see_ the stupid volcano right there on the satellite image! That’s their portal! Hell should be _right below it!_ It shouldn’t be that hard to find it!”

“It would seem Hell is too abstract for equations and coordinates to pinpoint,” said his computer sleepily. Zim hissed in frustration, because the computer was right. Hell was obviously a physical, reachable place, with its only concrete, mathematically sound entry point being within Mt. Sappho. But beyond that, his technology couldn’t grasp it. His computer would only be overwhelmed by heat signatures that simultaneously came from and did not come from a place on Earth. Seething, Zim kicked away from the console, chair revolving slowly. 

GIR stared up at the screen, pointing. “Heyyy, why you gotta find the place when you know where the door is? Just jump in the volcano if you wanna go!”

“ _SILENCE!_ ” Zim barked. “It’s not that simple, GIR, it’s —” He paused, narrowing his eyes at the robot. “Actually, maybe it is. For once you’re right, GIR.” GIR wrapped his arms around himself tightly and cooed shrilly at the praise. Ignoring him, Zim continued to ponder, “I should concern myself less with _getting to_ the enemy, and more with _knowing_ the enemy.”

“His name was Clem, and he sure was spicy!”

“I have no doubt that this spicy Clem beast alone would stand no chance against my _GENIUS_ ,” Zim speculated over steepled fingers. “But he wouldn’t be alone, and I don’t have enough data about him, or his underlings, or Hell, or _anything_ to be sure that I, _amazing_ as I am, could face this enemy singlehanded! Zim is but one invader, up against a wretchedly unknowable foe!”

He leaned back in his chair, still spinning sluggishly. This stinking, dirty planet called Earth played host to a staggering number of enemies besides humans. It was no wonder his quest in conquering it was taking such a long time, but the Almighty Tallest had been right to assign the mission to Zim and Zim alone. No other invader could be trusted, could have the patience, could have the skill to pull off such an invasion. Earth was unexpectedly treacherous, even if it _was_ doomed to fall at Zim’s incredible feet.

Still. _Unknowable foe_ was putting it lightly. He’d even used the human internet to research “demon Clem” and “Sapphoville demon Clem” and found nothing of use. Where was he supposed to learn even a single thing about this Clem guy, or what sort of weapon the Gaz child was supposed to be?

Wait.

Zim snatched up his disguise and put it back on. He didn’t have much time before the charter bus would deposit the Urchins back at the hotel, and he’d told Dib and Gaz to meet him. He had a disgusting but necessary discussion to have with them. But first, he had to make a call. 

Zim and Dib had hacked and hijacked one another's video calls on a regular basis since Zim first arrived to Earth, so it didn't even feel like a fun invasion of Dib’s privacy at this point when he made the call to Professor Membrane himself. He didn't even chuckle evilly as the phone rang, just tapped his fingers impatiently on his armrest. 

The screen flooded with static, then: “Just a moment, Simmons, I’m getting an unusual call!” Professor Membrane’s face appeared, peering at Zim curiously. “Oh! Hello! Zim! Dib’s little girlfriend! Or, uh, boyfriend, is it? It has been awfully confusing, what with the girls’ soccer team!” 

Zim’s eye twitched. “ _GENDER IS IRRELEVANT!_ ” 

Professor Membrane laughed heartily. “Very forward-thinking and true! Anyhow, what can I help you with? Make it quick, if you can, I am at work.” 

“Today’s incident at the stadium has brought some interesting new information to light about your children,” Zim growled, leaning ominously into his console. “About how they were born.” 

Professor Membrane rubbed his chin curiously and said, “Dib never told you?” He moved his screen away from the other voices in the lab from which he was broadcasting, to a quieter spot, and adopted a kindly, fatherly tone. “Perhaps this is a conversation you ought to have with my son. Trust is important in any relationship, and although to my knowledge Dib has never seemed ashamed of his origins—” 

Zim waved his hands wildly in front of him, testily dispelling this stupid line of conversation. “Zim knows and cares not of the Dib’s creation! It is the girl who is important right now. Gaz.” He shook a fist commandingly at his monitor. “ _Her_ origins concern me, after what happened at the stadium.” 

“Taking an interest in the family now?” said Professor Membrane, looking touched. “Well, I wouldn't worry too much about Gaz. Her origins are hellish in nature, but don’t let that Clem creature get to you. I was young when I dabbled in that nonsense, and I’ve put it behind me! The other half of Gaz’s origins were in _REAL SCIENCE!!!_ And, of course, her upbringing is what really matters. Nature and nurture and all that, you know.”

“But how did you contact Clem the first time?”

“He contacted me first, actually, when he wanted to create ‘the Weapon.’” He used air quotes around “the Weapon.” “I didn’t concern myself with what the Weapon was supposed to be. I was more interested in the unconventional method of creating human life. Those demons just love their volcanic portals, though! Clem favored good ol’ Mount Sappho even when I first met him.” 

“ _USELESS!_ ” Zim raged. He could have figured that much out on his own! On a secondary monitor, a notification from his transit system bleeped. The Urchins had arrived at the hotel, and Dib and Gaz were on their way down. “Ugh! I must go. Your children are here. We’re, uh. Hanging out.”

“Alright, it was nice to talk to you!” the Professor said cheerfully. The call ended. Zim removed his disguise and threw it angrily on the floor, rubbing his eyes, then stood to face the elevator doors, waiting.

Inside the transit system, Dib swept his video camera over every angle of the system’s gleaming interior. He nearly clocked Gaz in the temple with it in his fervor, but he paid no mind to her glowering expression.

“I guess it’s kind of after the fact, y’know, since literal demons from Hell were on live television,” he was saying, “but, I mean, people all over the world have believed in demons this whole time, so video proof of _that_ isn’t going to mean much to them. _This_ , though, footage of Zim’s Second Base? That he _invited_ us to? Now _that_ I can submit to the Swollen Eyeball!” He turned his camera on his sister. “What do you think, Gaz?”

Gaz pushed the camera out of her face, sucking down a soda. “I don’t think anybody wants footage of you getting to second base with Zim.” 

The transit system dinged and the doors opened. Dib zoomed in on Zim’s face where he was waiting for them as they stepped out, then angled the camera away to take in the base. It looked just like Zim’s regular base back home, only smaller. Zim narrowed his eyes at his camera when they came closer, and slapped it out of Dib’s hands. 

“ _Hey!_ ” 

“We’re stuck in this miserable town for only a short time, Dib-trash,” Zim said as the camera clattered away, “so I want to make this discussion brief. The forces of Hell are after the Gaz, and they need to be stopped.” 

Dib eyed his camera on the floor, making sure it was at least still recording, then turned a slightly exasperated look onto Zim. “You asked us to meet you down here just to say that? I already know that!”

“Let me finish!” Zim snapped. “They need to be stopped, but they’re too mysterious for me to take them down alone.”

Realization dawned on Dib, with highlights of dread as he understood what Zim was getting at. “You want to work together against them.”

“I’ve been backed into corners often enough to extend such suggestions to you a truly _DISGUSTING_ number of times in the past,” Zim said, managing somehow to look both outraged and nauseated at the confession. “These truces never work out because of your _CONTINUOUS BETRAYAL OF THE_ **_ZIM!!!_** ”

Unmoved, Dib said, “We’re mortal enemies, spaceboy. I don’t know what you expect.”

“I _expect_ you to at least hold off on your filthy treachery until a moment where it would do you some good!” Zim stalked forward to shove him. “Stupid _human!_ Every time we’ve worked together against a common enemy, your inevitable backstabbing blows up in _both_ our faces!”

Dib grimaced. Zim had a point. From the bologna debacle with the incorrect antidote to throwing Zim collared and blinking to the nightmare creatures in elementary school, his double-crossing of the alien had never really worked out for him, and always landed him in more trouble than he’d already been in. Dib wouldn’t exactly call it karma on his part, considering Zim always deserved it, but Dib would admit that his willingness to throw Zim under the bus was often...ill-advised, in the long run.

“Okay, well, whatever,” Dib said defensively. “What’s your point? You want to form another truce?”

“A _real_ truce,” said Zim darkly. “You can’t afford to betray me in the middle of it, Dib. Even if you managed to do it right for once, you still won’t be able to take on the demons by yourself, and then nothing will stop them from claiming your poor little sister.”

Gaz crushed her empty soda can in her hand and threw it at Zim, unimpressed. “I know you two are scared of these big bad demons, but I’m not. If you really think they’ve got a chance at ‘claiming’ me or whatever, you’re even dumber than you look.”

“They’re still gonna take a swing at it, though,” Dib argued, beginning to pace as he thought about their situation. “Even if they can’t get you, whatever they try could still be crazy destructive!”

“And who's to say Clem won't devise some other kind of Weapon?” Zim added. “No self-respecting arms dealer would put all his faith into one single weapon! I want them _all_ wiped out! This is MY planet to ruin above all! _THAT_ is Zim’s priority!”

“Saving the Earth…” Dib said with grim sarcasm.

“To destroy it later,” Zim finished. They stood there for a long moment, regarding each other distrustfully.

“I’m still going to defeat you, you know,” Dib said at last. “After this thing is finished, I’ll still make sure you’re opened up on an autopsy table eventually.”

This didn’t seem to bother Zim. Already he had a look of wrathful determination glowing on his face as he looked at Dib. With a wicked smile he said, “You can do your worst.” He threw himself back into his chair and spun to face his computer. “I have scoured your pitiful human internet for data on Clem and come up with nothing. Your parental unit was able to tell me Clem favors this vol—”

“Wait, you talked to our dad?” Dib didn’t know whether to be affronted at the invasion of privacy or embarrassed; his dad was weird about Zim when he wasn’t simply brushing off Dib’s feud with him.

Zim, sensing Dib’s discomfort, latched onto it gleefully. “Oh _yes_ , Dib, your father was very forthcoming about providing Zim with the most _intimate_ details about...well, about Clem, I guess, sort of. As your perceived _LOVE-PIG_ he was happy to tell me about how he got into contact with Clem to create you, the Gaz-child.” He pointed at her.

“My dad thinks we’re dating? _Gross_ ,” Dib said, pulling a face as Gaz snickered. “But what did he say about Clem?”

Zim pulled up his scans of Hell beneath Mt. Sappho, gesturing at the great, glitching swaths of red that overpowered the computer screen. “Nothing actually useful—TYPICAL—but it’s more information than I had before. Hell is too abstract a plane of existence to pinpoint, but volcanos are portals to it. Clem appears to favor Mt. Sappho, so he can probably be found there.”

Arms crossed and quirking an eyebrow dispassionately at the screen, Gaz said, “That’s a bad look, a demon hanging around the volcano named that.” Dib shot her a look, at which she shrugged.

Ignoring them, Zim continued, “If we had more actual data on them, we could probably just dive straight into Hell and annihilate them, but we have _NOTHING!_ Like I said, your human internet left me infuriatingly empty-handed!”

“Well, yeah,” Gaz said flatly. Zim and Dib looked at her. She rolled her eyes. “This town is tiny, barely on the map. You’re not gonna find anything that specific about it on the internet. If there’s anything on Clem and Sapphoville, it’ll probably be at the library. With, like, the physical books.” She was buttoning up her jacket and had donned her winter gloves. “I wanna go to the arcade. It’s three blocks away, and the library’s a block from that. The coaches aren’t letting anybody out of the hotel without their buddies, so come on.”

Gaz pressed the button to the transit system that opened the doors, and held it open with her foot as Dib scampered inside. They waited as Zim put his disguise back on and quickly punched in a command on his computer before joining them in the elevator.

Dib expected the journey from the hotel to the library to be a bit more triumphantly purposeful, but it was mostly just annoying and cold. He hadn’t planned on being outdoors this often during the trip, and a pair of gloves and a long-sleeved shirt under his coat weren’t keeping him especially warm. Gaz walked silently to his right, but Zim kept pitching a fit every time he glanced up at the volcano looming in the distance, about the audacity of Hell to try and steal his Irken thunder.

Something big and mostly invisible roared over their heads in the direction of the hotel. Dib recognized the sound of those thrusters and stared after it.

“Was that my spaceship?” he demanded.

“It was _Tak’s_ spaceship,” Zim shot back acidly, “not yours, human filth. I summoned it back at Second Base, because while we’re stuck dealing with these stupid demons, should an emergency arise, I don’t wanna be crammed in the Voot with you and your giant head of STENCH. You can fly by yourself.”

Dib walked a little straighter, mood brightening a bit. It was worth a garden-variety insult from Zim if it meant he was pretty much giving Dib free reign of an Irken runner. Granted, Tak’s ship had been living in Dib’s garage for years now, and as far as Dib was concerned it belonged to himself, but pretty much every time he blasted out of the atmosphere in it to butt heads with Zim in orbit or whatever, Zim acted like Dib’s most outstanding offense was in piloting an Irken craft as opposed to thwarting his stupid scheme.

They left Gaz at the arcade, an enormous neon building, and walked a block further to the Sapphoville Public Library, a tiny crumbling building that flecked dust into their eyes as they walked through the doors. The place was stuffed with books, and Dib suspected the buildings unsteady appearance was probably due to a number of its support beams being replaced with crooked towers of books instead of brick and mortar.

For several infuriating hours they scoured the occultism and religion classes of the library, infuriating for the lack of any mention of Clem and for how aggravating it was to work together. There were signs of demonic activity pressed between pages of summoning guides and cloning how-to’s—charred bits of paper and overpowering smells of fire and brimstone—but no specific mentions of Clem. Dib wasn’t sure what they were expecting. Maybe a stat sheet with Clem’s strengths and weaknesses.

“This is a waste of time,” Dib said at last, when Zim’s expression indicated he was ready to go especially ballistic if they stayed at this for much longer and when the grey winter light outside the dusty library windows suggested the sun would set soon. “Let’s go get Gaz from the arcade and regroup.”

“ _FINALLY!_ ” Zim cried, slamming his hands on the already-buckling table between them. It listed to one side and sent their books sliding down onto the floor. They saw themselves out of the library. Outside, a light snow was dusting the streets.

Dib aimed for the glowing arcade a block away, but Zim grabbed his arm, pointing. “The volcano,” he said, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “It’s supposed to be dormant, isn’t it?”

A dark, swirling circle of dense cloud hovered over the peak of Mt. Sappho, an ominous blot against the paler grey sky. Unease crept into Dib’s skin. “Yeah...yeah, it’s supposed to be. Come on.” He shook Zim off and hurried down the sidewalk. They needed to meet back up with Gaz.

The arcade was still open, but completely deserted. Trying to reign in his growing panic, Dib darted to every corner of the vast building, checking every console and peering under every air hockey table, even inside the claw machine and going into the girl’s bathroom. Gaz wasn’t in the arcade at all. Dib demanded answers from the sallow-faced college dropout managing the place, who insisted that the girl he’d seen them drop off there hours before had left about thirty minutes ago of her own volition.

  
Zim stood outside the arcade, glowering at the distantly rumbling volcano. He didn’t truly believe Clem and his minions posed any sort of real threat to the Gaz child; if anything, she was more of a threat to them. Either way, the demons had their Weapon in close proximity—what did that mean for him and _his_ mission?

**Author's Note:**

> I began this stupid thing at the tender age of eighteen in 2012. Recently I've been considering revisiting and continuing it, so I've thrown it up on ao3 just to see if it inspires me!


End file.
